


Arranged Speed Dating

by MsDay



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, M/M, everybody is a werewolf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-25 17:02:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20727701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsDay/pseuds/MsDay
Summary: Alpha Stilinski wants to forge an alliance with the much stronger Hale Pack. Unfortunately for Stiles, the only bargaining chip he has is his heir.





	Arranged Speed Dating

“We need this, Stiles,” his Dad says for the 85 bazilliontieth time. “We’re not in a position to negotiate, here. We don’t even have enough cards to play the game, at this point.” Great, the poker metaphors. 

“Mom got to choose you,” Stiles responds for the 85 bazilliontieth time and his Dad sighs. 

“Stiles, we’ve been over this-” 

“Yeah, every other time I’ve met one of the Hale offspring,” he snaps. “They’re all the same, entitled rich kids who think I’m rude because I don’t fawn all over them.” He slumps into his seat and undoes the buttons on his cuffs, at least he doesn’t have to wear the tie. “I still don’t get why you can’t marry the alpha.” Stiles snorts, “well, why do something unpleasant when you can force someone else to do it, instead?”

His father’s grip tightens on the steering wheel and the breath he takes is the loudest one Stiles has ever heard in his life. “They think you’re rude because you’re rude to them. And, I can’t marry the alpha. The whole point of this is that there’s an heir. We can’t have kids-”

“You can, you just don’t want to; well I don’t want to, either. You couldn’t pay me enough to procreate with one of those brats. Or at all,” he says with an exaggerated shiver. 

He can smell the frustration and anger wafting off of his Dad when he pulls into the restaurant’s parking lot. What kind of fancy Italian restaurant doesn’t have valet parking? Someone’s getting a one star review on Yelp. 

As soon as the car is stopped, his Dad turns and flashes the Red Eyes, “you will go into that restaurant, you will be polite, you will NOT order French fries and you will make. An. Effort. Our pack is dying, if you have to marry a pretentious child and have a dozen kids, you will marry a pretentious child and have a dozen kids.” He takes a deep breath, then continues, “it’s my job as alpha to keep this pack safe and alive, it’s your job as beta to do as your told. Get out of the car.”

“Dad-”

“Get out of the car.” He does as he’s told. 

The restaurant isn’t exactly hopping. Though, it’s four PM on a Wednesday and candle light is only romantic if it can be seen. They can see Alpha Hale and Tall, Dark and Handsome from the door, but they still have to wait for the maitre d' to find the reservation and seat them, because how else are they going to charge a hundred dollars a plate? Not that Stiles is paying.

The Hales stand as the Stilinskis are lead over to the table and Alpha Hale and his Dad share a cheek kiss, like they’re actually in Italy, or something. Stiles turns away so he can roll his eyes. 

“You must be Derek,” his Dad says. Stiles turns back to the group of them just in time to see Derek nod. When he doesn’t say anything, he pulls Stiles to his side, “this is Stiles. He likes comics, too.” 

Stiles stumbles over his feet as his Dad pushes him toward Derek and escorts Alpha Hale to a table against the far wall. It’s far enough away that the chaperones aren’t sitting on the dinner plates, but close enough that they can still eavesdrop.

“So, Marvel or DC?” Stiles asks as he sinks into the seat and prays to who- or whatever is listening that it swallow him up. 

Derek is glaring at his Mother when Stiles looks up at him. He heaves a deep sigh and sits in his seat. “Panel Syndicate. Image.” Stiles nods but is saved from pissing off his Dad by the waitress, who comes to take their drink order. Stiles doesn’t order chocolate milk to annoy anyone, he just thinks it’ll pair nicely with the fries he’s going to order, that’s all. 

Twenty minutes into the silent meal, unfortunately French fryless, he gets a text and pulls his phone out. It’s from his Dad, _Say something_.

What can he say? Derek’s not exactly working with him, here. “So... What’s your favourite movie?”

Derek gets a text and says, “I don’t like movies,” as he pulls it out to, presumably, check what his Mother just sent him. He frowns at the phone, then at his Mother, then scowls at something over Stiles shoulder before asking Stiles the same question.

Stiles drops his fork with a clatter, pushes back his seat and leans back in it. “OK, look. I don’t want to be here, you don’t want to be here. Why don’t we do the interrogation thing so we can officially declare each other undesirable and go back to our respective homes and our respective graphic novels?” Stiles can see and smell the relief coming off of him in waves as he gives a small nod. Stiles turns to the parents and asks, “is that alright with you, or would you like to make this as painful as possible?” He’s speaking to his Dad, of course, he would never disrespect another alpha like that, but Alpha Hale still stiffens and narrows her eyes.

He turns back to Derek before she can say anything, “what do you want to be when you grow up?” 

“A paediatric nurse.”

Stiles’ eyebrows shoot up, “really? Do you want kids?”

Derek nods, then says, “yes, two or three.”

“What’s your religion?”

Derek frowns, “werewolf,” he says like he’s talking to a toddler.

Stiles rolls his eyes, “your cover religion.”

“Oh, uh, Christian, I guess.” Stiles nods.

“Cats or dogs?”

“Cats.”

“Are you a morning person or a night person?”

“Night.”

“Hot dogs or hamburgers?”

“Um, hamburgers.”

“Coke or Pepsi?”

“Coke?”

“Simpsons or Family Guy?”

“Uh...”

Stiles grabs some of the garlic bread on his plate, “do you have any interests other than graphic novels?” He stuffs the garlicy goodness into his face in an attempt to finish it before his Dad gets so embarrassed that he frog marches Stiles out to the car.

Derek’s ears turn pink and isn’t that adorable? “I like to draw,” he says in a small voice.

Stiles watches him try to hide his embarrassment, for a few seconds. “Do you like it more than nursing?” Derek shoots a look over to his Mother then directs his eyes to his plate. That’s a ‘yes, but I went into nursing because Mommy told me that I had to’.

“I don’t think we’re compatible. At all.” Derek frowns at his plate but doesn’t argue. “I mean, do you even like the D?” 

There’s a bark of laughter from a table near the door and Derek groans. Alpha Hale snaps, “Peter!” and Stiles turns to see who else has been eavesdropping. 

Oh, OK. Hi. If Derek is Tall, Dark and Handsome, then this guy is Tall, Not So Dark and Hot Like Burning. The swagger in this guy’s step is enough to tell that he’s the douchiest of canoes, but just in case someone misses it, there’s a goatee, too. 

Peter pulls a chair over from the table next to them and sits. “Derek, are you going to introduce me to your friend?” 

Derek rolls his eyes but gestures between them, “Peter, this is Stiles, Stiles, my uncle Peter.” 

“Thank you Derek, Ms. Post would be proud.” He turns to Stiles. “No, he doesn’t like the D; a flaw in his upbringing, to be sure.” 

“More’s the pity. How was your upbringing?” Stiles is sure that if Derek’s eyebrows weren’t comparable to Groucho Marx’s moustache, he wouldn’t’ve seen them fly into his hairline out of the corner of his eye.

Peter smirks at him, “flawless. You didn’t answer your own questions. Isn’t this supposed to be a conversation?” 

“He didn’t ask.”

“I'm asking.” 

He lists his preferences with more confidence than Derek had and his smirk turns into a grin as Peter list his own answers with options that Stiles didn’t give. If his ability to think for himself weren’t alluring enough, he answers the Simpsons or Family Guy question with: Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Swoon.

Stiles and Peter both turn to watch as Derek gets up, goes over to the alphas and asks for permission to leave. They continue to watch as the alphas, eyes glued on the two of them, both nod and Derek walks out of the restaurant.

“It’s not you, it’s me,” he says to Derek's retreating back, “I hope we can still be friends.” He turns back to Peter, “I liked him,” he smiles. Peter pulls a few bills out of his wallet and puts them on the table as he stands.

“Would you like to go somewhere else?” he holds his hand out to Stiles with a raised eyebrow. 

He takes Peter’s hand and pushes out his chair as loudly as he can, “literally anywhere else.” He doesn’t look back at the alphas as he links his arm with Peter’s and leaves the restaurant.


End file.
